Paul and Lucy Spadoni periodically live in Tuscany to explore Paul’s Italian roots, practice their Italian and enjoy “la dolce vita.”
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Tuesday, April 10, 2012

I want to be Italian, but I come up lacking in some vital areas

Tuesday, April 10

A year ago March, I wrote a four-part entry about the top 10
things I like about Italy. I’ve thought about writing a similar essay about the
things I don’t like about Italy, but I think it would be a short and boring list. Instead I’m going to name top five reasons I do not make a good
Italian. I love it here, and I would like to fit in with the crowd, but some of
my likes, dislikes and personality traits just don’t align with what is
typically Italian.

These don’t need to go in any particular order, so I’ll just
list them in the order they pop into my head. My first problem is I don’t
really like coffee—American or Italian—and I’m not wild about wine. I prefer
fruit juices, water and sometimes milk. Since caffé and vino are the staple
drinks of Italians, I’m often faced with the choice between drinking what I
like and drinking what everyone else is having. My cousins here were amazed the first time I
visited when I said, “Non mi piace caffé.” They looked at me as if I had said, “I
don’t like sunshine.”

I’m sure I could develop a liking for it, but it’s just never
been a part of my diet. I remember people telling me as a boy that coffee is an
acquired taste, and I thought, “Well, it doesn’t really have any nutritional
value, and it stains your teeth, so why should I try to acquire this taste?” I
made the same decision about soft drinks and cigarettes. But now, it doesn’t do
my quest for Italian friends any good to turn down an invitation for a cup of
coffee, so I always accept, and I am gradually acquiring a liking for it. If we
are at a bar, I can easily order a cioccolata calda, which I really love, but if
I am in someone’s home, I don’t want to put them to the extra trouble. I just
add a little extra sugar and I do just OK.

I like wine just fine, but it would be better if I were
passionate about it, because there are so many vineyards around that offer free
wine tastings. I could have a fantastic time driving around and sampling them
all, talking with my friends about the various qualities of each type.

“This rosso is velvety but at the same time vigorous and
ripe. However, it is a trifle too woody for my tastes, and the finish doesn’t
match the initial boquet. But the balance and character of this bianco is stunning; it is full
and flowery, without a trace of coarseness.”

I can’t tell much
difference between a cheap wine and a something really special and expensive,
so if I went on one of the “strada del vino” tours, I wouldn’t get much out of
it except for the pleasure of socializing with other people on the tour. And
while the wine samples are free, the vineyards do expect that most people will eventually
purchase something. I can just imagine the conversation.

“Which one do you like, signore?”

“Oh, I like them all. They’re really good.”

“Would you like to buy one?”

“No, I’m going to go to the supermarket and buy something
really cheap that’s on sale.”

Here I am about to head
out for the passeggiata. . . NOT!

My second un-Italian trait has to do with appearance and
clothing. I appreciate the stylish way Italians dress. They take such time and attention
to shop and dress carefully, and I love watching them make the bella figura during passeggiata. Unfortunately, I am too cheap or lazy to join in. I’m
not sloppy or unkempt, but nondescript would be an apt term for my clothing
tastes. Plain jeans are just too comfortable for me to abandon, and expensive
shirts are, well, expensive. I feel maybe just a trifle selfish, because other
people spend money for my viewing pleasure, and I don’t reciprocate—but nobody
is making them do it, so I don’t feel too bad on that regard. It’s just that I
like the feeling that I belong here. I am an Italian citizen, so I feel I should
make more effort to fit the role.

The best I can do on this front is a bit of compromise. I
have, with some helpful prodding from Lucy, purchased some Italian shirts and
sweaters, which I wear when going out to dinner, and I wear black jeans because
so many Italians dress in black. But the Armani suits will have to wait until
pigs can fly.

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About Me

First off, before you hassle me about our title, Lucy thought of it. Yes, I know some people may think broad is derogatory, but the etymology is uncertain and she doesn’t find it offensive, and it made me laugh. We have been married since 1974 and are empty-nesters now, which allows me to bring my submerged Italophilia into the open. We first came to live in Italy from February-April in 2011 and have returned during the same months every year. From 2011-2015, we lived in San Salvatore, at the foot of the hilltop city Montecarlo, where my paternal grandparents were born, raised and, in 1908, married. In late 2015, we bought a home in Montecarlo. We come for a variety of purposes: We want to re-establish contact with distant cousins in both Nonno’s and Nonna’s families, we want to learn the language and see what it is like to live as Italians in modern Italy, we like to travel and experience different cultures. Even if we aren’t successful at achieving these purposes, we love Italy and enjoy every moment here, so there is no chance we will be disappointed. I am grateful to God for giving me a wife who is beautiful, clever, adaptable and willing to jump into my dreams wholeheartedly.